Mystery

Hawaiian Vacation
Miranda checked her watch. It was only five minutes past the last time she checked it. “Today is just dragging,” she muttered under her breath. On the surface, the day was just like any other Friday. However, this Friday was special. She and her family were leaving on their week-long vacation to Hawaii that afternoon. Miranda had started planning this trip over a year ago and even though she was the top executive of one of the largest advertising firms in the country, she had very little time with her family. Her career was very demanding, requiring her to work long hours and most weekends.
By MELISSA E. PROPER5 years ago in Fiction
Celebration Dinner
Eddie holds the red door open for Kat, Carl, Anna, Johann, Vicki, and AJ as they all go into the entry of the banquet hall for the Rooster Hills Half Marathon post race celebration dinner. There are white linens on 8 foot round tables with blue napkins folded into stars at each place setting. Twelve inch tall, thin red vases are in the middle of every table. Each vase holds red, white and blue star balloons mounted on tall, gold rods.
By Mandy Jo5 years ago in Fiction
A Box of Trouble
Sitting on the cold bench was no fun. The wind from the trains whistling exacerbated it. I checked my package next to me. It was a plain-looking package wrapped in brown paper, about as big as a lunch box. I wondered why they needed our special service. Our cost was fifty times what they'd pay for UPS or DHL. And the customer had to insure the contents. I'm with Talents Unlimited Inc. Although we courier valuable parcels, that's not our primary business. Like our name says, we supply talent most companies can't or won't. From bodyguards to Lear Jet pilots to engineers. An Aussie, Charlotte Jones owned the company. She moved to Ft Worth, Texas and hung out her shutter ten years ago.
By William Stinson5 years ago in Fiction
Counterfeit Curse
The package waited for Valerie on her desk Monday night. It was a small box, maybe the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped in plain brown paper. No return address. Heavy, though. Valerie was the only one working in the intake office for the museum at night. Not even assistants. An occasional security guard would appear, but Valerie had become adept at avoiding them.
By Nicole Beverly5 years ago in Fiction
An invitation into the abyss
This isn’t going to have a happy ending. If you are seeking escapism in a fantastical tale where handsome heroes defeat overwhelming powers of evil to win untold fortunes, the full-lipped kisses of fair maidens and the unwavering love of tail-wagging puppies; this story is not for you.
By David Rattray5 years ago in Fiction
Side Effects May Include:
I am eroding. Time and space flows over me, a river of life and opportunity and experience has discarded me into its abyss. As I stare through the screen of static and noise and reruns from the early 90’s on an old antenna-fed channel, I become dulled, lesser, a pale stone perched atop the pebble gray sofa, sinking, settling, weathering away. I run my parched tongue across the dry-rotted, deep-fried crust of my lips. I let out a long, disparaging breath, the cackling of an unseen audience filling the room from the flat screen television before me.
By Seth Adams5 years ago in Fiction
The Adventure of the Reliquary Chest
“Cordy! Over there, he’s over there! He’s just entering the café!” Lieutenant Cordelia O’Leary turned around sharply, following the direction of her husband, Dr. Henry Kingston. Ah-ha! There you are, you little creep!
By Kathryn Vanden Oever5 years ago in Fiction
Know Thy Neighbor
I pretty much do the same thing everyday. I wake up around 1pm, lay in bed for about an hour while snacking on something from my bedside table. Once I’m bored enough of my phone I get up and wash my face, brush my teeth, the usual morning routine, then I come back to my room. I have some many plans and thoughts and dreams, but I feel like I need something external from myself to give me that push, to get me started in the right direction. I’ve reached out to psychic mediums and tarot readers. I’ve bought oracle decks and crystals and have even charged them under the moonlight in order to “activate” their powers. I’ve attempted reading more books in order to spark inspiration from a character. But I’m still here in my bed, where I’ve been for that past few weeks.
By Janine Walker5 years ago in Fiction
The Box at the Diner
10:30pm. The diner had been closed for half an hour. ‘Thank the lord today is over,’ Maggie said, an unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth. ‘My feet, Ivy. My feet are bloody killing me.’
By Jade Hadfield5 years ago in Fiction
Half a day
Half a day By Hywel Latimyr Tsmugi wanders around the streets surrounding Paddington station, a ritual she seems all so complacent with in recent weeks. She likes to watch as the strange people who also seem to just wander the streets on London like herself potter around with their lives. She notices the man on his phone, with his hands-free device of course, waffling something or rather about plans for a party, with a coffee in had as you do. The old lady across the street, lecturing who Tsmugi assumed was her grandson, about how he should not forget about his studies just because this English woman took his heart. She spoke with a strong accent, which Tsmugi assumed was from somewhere in the West Indies. The lad, however, spoke like how you would hear Londoners speak in American movies. Then there was the little girl and her mother, the girl excited to be getting on a train. She could not have been any older than four, maybe five years old. Her mother just looked tired, as most mothers to young children do.
By Some Guy5 years ago in Fiction
Heat Stroke
Laura was finally home after a long day at the office and she was exhausted. She struggled with the bag of groceries in her hands while rummaging through her purse for the keys. It was just that type of day she was having: of course her car wouldn’t start. She looked at her car and she decided to walk home, regretting it now with the Texas summer heat beating down on her. Halfway home she was drenched with sweat. All she wanted to do was get home and get inside. She unlocked the door and kicked it closed behind her. She set the bag down on the kitchen table. Laura took a deep breath and fell out in the chair taking great pleasure in the cool breeze from the AC. The house was extremely quiet with the exception of the ceiling fan chords clanging together from the vibration of the blades spinning at the highest speed possible.
By Tia Dalu Souhrada5 years ago in Fiction
Punchbowl
Punchbowl John stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway on the fifth floor. The carpet was old and thin with brown stains here and there that break up the pattern of blue, gray, and red squares. It always reminded him of the hotel hallways in movies from the ‘70s. He turned down the hallway where his apartment sat near the end, between the fifty-something cat lady who never spoke to anyone and the young couple who don’t seem to understand what time decent people go to bed. Mrs. Beamon, who occupies the apartment across the hall with her thirty-five-year-old son, whom she swears will be famous one day, was sitting in the hall as usual.
By A. Scott Harlow5 years ago in Fiction